Old Timer Stories Part of My Antique Collection

Torrance Barrens (Photo by Fred Schulz)

THE STORIES I HEARD ABOUT MUSKOKA - AND WHAT BECOMES SHOP-TALK TODAY

MEMORIES AS KEEPSAKES - I REMEMBER THE ENTHUSIASM OF THE STORY TELLERS

     A FREQUENT VISITOR TO OUR GRAVENHURST ANTIQUE SHOP, ASKED ME THIS WEEK, WHERE I GOT ALL MY WILD AND WOOLY MUSKOKA STORIES FROM? I DIDN'T KNOW HOW TO ANSWER REALLY, BECAUSE THERE WERE THOUSANDS OF SOURCES, AND BOOKS AND A LOT OF TUTORING FROM OLD-TIMERS I KNEW, WHO NEVER THOUGHT OF THEMSELVES AS MENTOR MATERIAL. BUT THEY WERE EXCEPTIONAL TUTORS. I DO REGALE THOSE WHO WISH TO CHAT, WITH SOME OF MY FAVORITE MUSKOKA YARNS, AS WERE TOLD TO ME WAY BACK…..WHEN I WAS WORKING ON HISTORICAL FEATURES FOR MUSKOKA PUBLICATIONS…..THE MUSKOKA SUN SPECIFICALLY. AT LEAST EIGHTY PERCENT OF WHAT I HEARD I COULDN'T PUT IN PRINT, BECAUSE CHARACTERISTICALLY, THEY WERE A LONG WAY FROM BEING POLITICALLY CORRECT; OR STORIES I COULD VARIFY EASILY. BUT THEY TOLD THEM WITHOUT FLINCHING, EVEN THOUGH SOME HAD THE POTENTIAL OF CREATING CONTROVERSY FOR OUR PUBLICATION. MY IMMEDIATE BOSS, AT THE TIME, ROBERT BOYER, AN ACCOMPLISHED MUSKOKA HISTORIAN, WITH SEVERAL BOOKS TO HIS CREDIT, WASN'T SHY OF LETTING ME KNOW THAT SOME MATERIAL…..EVEN IN THE SO CALLED NEW AGE OF FREEDOM OF THE PRESS, WASN'T FIT TO PRINT. I AGREED WITH HIM FOR THE MOST PART, BUT I'VE RELATED MANY OF THE CENSORED STORIES EVER SINCE……AND NEVER ONCE RAN INTO ANY SIGNIFICANT OBJECTION.

     AS ONE EXAMPLE, A WELL KNOWN GRAVENHURST CITIZEN, SADDLED UP TO ME ONE DAY, ON A BENCH AT GULL LAKE PARK. HE KNEW WHO I WAS, BECAUSE MY PHOTOGRAPH ACCOMPANIED MY COLUMN, IN "MUSKOKA TODAY," RUN BY MARK AND HUGH CLAIRMONT. THE FELLOW TOLD SOME AMAZING TALES, KNOWING THAT I WAS INTERESTED IN WRITING THE MORE BIZARRE STORIES FROM THE PAST. SO WITHOUT BLINKING, HE BEGAN TELLING ME ABOUT THE POOREST OF THE POOR, FROM THE CITY, BROUGHT TO THE MUSKOKA FREE HOSPITAL, FOR TUBERCULAR PATIENTS. HE EXPLAINED THAT WHEN THESE PEOPLE DIED AT THE HOSPITAL, THEY WERE BURIED IN RAIN BARRELS IN A LOCAL CEMETERY. AND MORE THAN ONE CORPSE PER BARREL. IT WAS A SPACE-SAVING, ECONOMICAL WAY OF BURIAL, SO HE SAID. I WAS SURPRISED BUT NOT SHOCKED. HE HAD MANY OTHER STORIES, WHICH WERE A LITTLE MORE CONTROVERSIAL, THAT I HAVE KEPT IN MIND…..BUT NEVER SPOKEN ABOUT. SO TRUTHFULLY, THE EDUCATION I GOT BY TALKING TO LONG TIME MUSKOKA CITIZENS, WAS A LONG TERM MENTORSHIP THAT IS STILL GOING ON TODAY…..AS WE SHARE STORIES; NOW OVER THE COUNTER OF OUR SMALL ANTIQUE SHOP. I DON'T GENERATE FALSEHOODS FOR THE SAKE OF A STIRRING CONVERSATION, BUT IT'S AMAZING, WHAT ANECDOTES OF HISTORY COME FORTH, IN THESE CANDID, REMARKABLE CONVERSATIONS…..AMONGST THE KEEPSAKES AND ROWS OF BOOKS DOCUMENTING CANADIAN AND REGIONAL HISTORY.

     THE POINT IS, THAT WHILE I WAS WORKING MY WAY ALONG, AS BOTH A STARVING WRITER AND POOR ANTIQUE SCROUNGER, I STARTED TO PAY ATTENTION TO THE STORY TELLERS I HAD A CHANCE TO WORK CLOSELY WITH……AND IT WAS AN INCREDIBLE, LONG TERM LISTENING EXERCISE WITH DIVIDENDS. TWO THINGS I KNEW EARLY ON, AFTER MY RETURN TO MUSKOKA FOLLOWING UNIVERSITY. FIRST OF ALL, I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE THIS REGION, AND SECONDLY I WANTED TO SPEND MY TIME AS A WRITER, PENNING STORIES ABOUT THE HOME DISTRICT. AS A NEWBY ANTIQUE DEALER, I FELT IT WAS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY, SEEING AS I PLANNED ON STAYING AND WORKING IN MUSKOKA, TO HAVE AN EXCELLENT BACKGROUND IN LOCAL HISTORY. I JUST DIDN'T THINK IT WAS RESPONSIBLE TO BE A LOCAL DEALER, AND SELL REGIONAL ANTIQUES AND COLLECTABLES, BUT NOT KNOW HOW IT ALL CAME TOGETHER. OVER THE YEARS IT ALL JUST MELLED TOGETHER, SO THAT WHEN IT CAME TIME TO OPEN MY FIRST SHOP, I WAS ALREADY A DABBLING HISTORIAN, HAVING JUST HELPED LAUNCH THE BRACEBRIDGE HISTORICAL SOCIETY…..WHICH WOULD EVENTUALLY BE RESPONSIBLE FOR OPENING WOODCHESTER VILLA AND MUSEUM, IN THE EARLY 1980'S. AND I LIKED TO TALK A LOT. THIS IS WHAT SUZANNES TELLS OUR CUSTOMERS, (ALMOST AS AN APOLOGY) WHEN I'M BENDING THEIR EARS……LIKE THE OLDTIMERS USED TO BEND MINE…..OF WHICH I WAS ALWAYS GRATEFUL.

     I BENEFITTED AS AN HISTORIAN, WRITER AND ANTIQUE DEALER, FROM MY LONGTIME ASSOCIATION WITH MANY UNIQUE CHARACTERS, WHO LOVED TO SPIN THEIR STORIES TO ANYONE WHO WOULD GIVE THEM AN AUDIENCE. THEY WERE PROUD OF THEIR FAMILY HISTORIES, AND HOW THEY HAD RISEN FROM OFTEN IMPOVERISHED BACKGROUNDS, TO BECOME SUCCESSFUL FARMERS, BUSINESSMEN, PROFESSIONALS AND EVEN A FEW GARDENERS. THEY HAD A WEALTH OF STORIES, AND LIKE READING A GOOD BOOK, I WANTED AS MUCH OF THOSE INTIMATE MEMORIES AS THEY COULD PROVIDE. THIS IS HOW I HAVE COME TO POSSESS SUCH A SOCIAL-CULTURAL KNOWLEDGE OF MUSKOKA, FROM THE 1860'S TO THE PRESENT. AND HERE IS ONE EXAMPLE, OF HOW ONE OF MY WORK COLLEAGUES EDUCATED ME AS A LOCAL ANTIQUARIAN.

     MY FIRST SIGNIFICANT INTRODUCTION TO REGIONAL HISTORY, IN THIS PART OF ONTARIO, CAME WHEN I WORKED AS A SUMMER PAINTER, AT SOUTH MUSKOKA MEMORIAL HOSPITAL, IN BRACEBRIDGE. WORKING AT THE HOSPITAL, BACK IN THE EARLY 1970'S, HELPED FINANCE MY YEARS AT UNIVERSITY. THE CONTACTS I MADE WITH STAFF, IN MY DEPARTMENT AT THE HOSPITAL, HAVE HELD ME IN GOOD STEAD, EVER SINCE. WHILE THIS MAY SEEM STRANGE, AND A HIGHLY UNUSUAL PLACE TO GET MY HISTORY LESSONS, TRUTH IS, I HAPPENED TO BE IN THIS GROUPING AT A PERFECT TIME, TO HARVEST THESE IMPORTANT IMPRESSIONS. ALL BUT A FEW ARE NOW DECEASED, BUT THEY LEFT ME WITH THESE GEMS OF HISTORICAL ANECDOTE. THEY WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN OF TOO MUCH INTEREST TO MOST REGIONAL HISTORIANS, BECAUSE THEY LACKED THE NUTS AND BOLTS OF HISTORICAL FACT. FOR THE SOCIAL HISTORIAN IN TRAINING, HOWEVER, EACH COFFEE BREAK IN THE HOSPITAL CAFETERIA BECAME AN INTIMATE TUTORIAL………WHICH OF COURSE, WERE GREATLY ENHANCED FROM ANY FORMAL INSTRUCTION I RECEIVED AT UNIVERSITY; BECAUSE THESE STORIES CAME FROM FIRST PERSON ACCOUNTS. THE STORIES THESE OLD-TIMERS WERE SPINNING, OFFERED AN IN-PERSON, UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL PERSPECTIVE. THESE ARE THE ONES MISSING FROM CONVENTIONAL REGIONAL HISTORIES. THE STORY LINES YOU HAVE TO "READ" INTO THE TYPICALLY CONSERVATIVE TEXT OF MOST LOCAL FACT-BURDENED HISTORIES. THESE ANECDOTAL STORIES WERE THE COLOR OVER THE LINES OF BLACK AND WHITE. THESE ARE THE STORIES THAT ENGAGE MY CUSTOMERS ALL THESE YEARS LATER. I CAN INTRODUCE MY FRIENDS TO THESE LONG AGO CHARACTERS AS IF THEY WERE STANDING BESIDE ME……THAT'S HOW MUCH AFFECTION I STILL HAVE FOR THEIR PLACE IN LOCAL HISTORY. THEIR ACCOMPLISHMENTS? THEY WON'T EVER MAKE IT TO PRINT IN FORMAL HISTORICAL ACCOUNTS. BUT THEY SURE AS HELL WILL BE TOLD AND RE-TOLD BY SOCIAL HISTORIANS LIKE ME. NOT SURPRISING, THESE ARE THE INTIMACIES OF HISTORY, THAT TO MOST OF US HERITAGE ENTHUSIASTS, ARE VITALLY IMPORTANT TO THE LEGACY OF WHAT IT MEANS TO BE MUSKOKAN IN THE FIRST PLACE. SO THEY BEG LIBERALITIES FROM THE STORY TELLER……AND NOW IT IS MY TASK TO KEEP THESE LOCAL LEGENDS FROM BEING FORGOTTEN, OR DEEMED IRRELEVANT. I'VE GOT MY WORK CUT OUT FOR ME, BUT NEVER UNDERESTIMATE EITHER THE BARBER, BARTENDER OR ANTIQUE DEALER, IN THE PURSUIT OF AN EAGER AUDIENCE…..TO SPILL THE BEANS, AS THEY SAY.

     ONE OF THE MOST VOCAL OF THE COFFEE TIME SOCIALS, WAS THE HOSPITAL GARDENER, BILL "WILLY" ANDISON, WHO GREW UP IN THE GENERAL VICINITY OF THE HAMLETS OF FRASERBURG, AND PURBROOK, NEAR THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE. WILLY KNEW THAT AREA AND ITS INHABITANTS AS WELL AS ANYONE, AND AS FAR AS ITS HISTORY, HE HAD THE KEY POINTS WELL IN HAND. BUT WILLY'S MAIN CONTRIBUTION, TO THIS ROOKIE HISTORIAN, WAS THAT HE WAS MOSTLY…..NO, ALMOST ENTIRELY ANECDOTAL IN HIS RETELLING OF THE WAY IT HAD BEEN……AS A YOUNGSTER, AND YOUNG MAN GROWING UP IN WHAT WAS EVEN IN HIS YOUTH, STILL A PIONEERING CLUSTER OF RESIDENTS. HE TOLD STORIES THAT WOULD NEVER BE PENNED INTO FORMAL HISTORIES, BECAUSE THEY LACKED "HISTORICAL" SIGNIFICANCE…..YET TO ME, THEY PROVIDED EXACTLY WHAT I NEEDED TO DEVELOP AN INTEREST IN GATHERING MORE OF THESE SOCIAL RECOLLECTIONS.

     SITTING DOWN FOR COFFEE, IN THOSE DAYS, COULD BE ANY ONE FROM HOSPITAL ADMINISTRATION, TO MEMBERS OF THE JANITORIAL STAFF. BUT WE DIDN'T TALK ABOUT OUR JOBS IN THE HOSPITAL. WE WERE HUDDLED WITH A LOT OF OTHER STAFF MEMBERS, AT OTHER TABLES, SO IT WAS NECESSARY TO KEEP INTERNAL BUSINESS OUT OF DISCUSSION POINTS…..TO MAINTAIN A PLEASANT RESPITE FROM THE DAILY CHORES. WE MIGHT FIND HOSPITAL ADMINISTRATOR, FRANK HENRY, SITTING AT OUR TABLE, WITH MAINTENANCE WORKERS SUCH AS DEPARTMENT MANAGER, KEN DAWSON, GEORGE JACKSON, ART COULSON, JACK HIGH, BILL BENNETT, DOUG FITZMAURICE, AND OF COURSE, WILLY ANDISON. EACH OF THESE GENTLEMAN, HAD A WEALTH OF KNOWLEDGE ABOUT MUSKOKA OUTSIDE OF THE FORMAL HISTORY TEXTS. WHEN WILLY BEGAN TALKING ABOUT LIFE ON THE FRASERBURG ROAD, EACH OF THE OTHERS KNEW EXACTLY WHAT TO EXPECT…….AND WHEN IT WAS THEIR TURN TO SPEAK-UP, THE TALL-TALES SPILLED FORTH LIKE GOLD COINS TO THE HUNTER-GATHERER. BILL BENNETT, FOR EXAMPLE, WAS ONE OF THE WELL KNOWN ROPE (BOAT) BUMPER CRAFTERS, WORKING FOR BOAT FENDER MANUFACTURER, JOHN NEWARK, FROM HIS WORKSHOP ON HIRAM STREET. YOU MIGHT NOT THINK THERE ARE MANY INTERESTING STORIES ASSOCIATED WITH THE CRAFTING OF BOAT BUMPERS, BUT YOU'D BE SURPRISED WHAT BILL KNEW AND SHARED WITH US……ABOUT FAMOUS CUSTOMERS, COTTAGERS ON THE MUSKOKA LAKES, WHO DEPENDED ON HIS WORKMANSHIP TO SAFEGUARD THEIR FINALLY CRAFTED WOODEN BOATS, LIKE THE FAMOUS DITCHBURNS…..AND SMALL YACHTS…..AND STEAMBOATS.

THE MILK WAGON AND THE SLINGSHOT

     Willy Andison, was the unofficial Hospital greeter, and when he worked in the extensive gardens, he spent at least half his work day, talking with visitors. Understandably, he met up with folks who were pretty distraught, about an illness in the family that brought them to the medical facility. It wasn't in Bill's job description, to take it upon himself, to console friends and family of accident victims, or those who had just left the hospital with a heavy feeling in their hearts, about an unfavorable diagnosis. It was part of the whole experienced of being a gardener, for Willy, and it comforted many of these troubled and impatient visitors, to talk about flowers and the daily grind of the gardener on duty. The stories that man told, must have been what the doctor ordered, because I saw so many of his old and new friends, laughing out loud, when he began spinning some occasion-appropriate yarn, which usually had to do with an experience from his early life……or stories about the characters he had known, who had shown a unique way to deal with adversity. I know for fact, the man had more pats on the back, handshakes and hugs, than any other staff member at the hospital…….and yes, he was just the gardener. But he was a compassionate, light-hearted old soul, who was through and through Muskokan……and he was a diplomat for our way of life here, whether he knew this or not.

     I was painting a section of outside concrete wall, from a scaffold, one afternoon, when I noticed Willy had moved closer to where I was working. Willy watched me around his flowers because I routinely, accidentally of course, dripped paint onto his flowers below. He never got mad at me, but would find creative ways to get even, often by unleashing an unanticipated prank later on. Mostly it was an accidental "oops" when the hose all of a sudden was re-directed at me, walking by where he was working. And they were always gems, memorable and embarrassing. So I performed all kinds of safeguards against dripping paint, because I didn't want him making me a target. His were old time pranks. Not the new, "much more gentle" kind.

     One morning, at coffee, old Willy started telling a large group of staff members, enjoying their coffee time, about the time he and his mates, with slingshots, found live targets on the Queen's Hill, on Bracebridge's Manitoba Street. It was in the early Depression years, when the mischief took place. The group of three rapscallions, had snuck behind a building near the Queen's Hotel, at the intersection of Manitoba and Thomas Streets, looking to unleash a memorable prank on some unsuspecting passerby. What came next was an opportunity that would make them local notables. A team of horses came up the Thomas Street incline, pulling a wagon loaded with milk cans. When the driver pulled the team around the corner, and up the steeper section of Manitoba Street, the lads snuck up to the corner, and loaded up their slingshots with ammunition….presumably some small round rocks.

     When the team was nearing the bring of the hill, all three lads let loose their stretched rubber propelled rocks, at least two hitting the hind quarters of both horses. They reared up as if they had just run into a bear in the middle of the road, and the driver was thrown back violently, falling off the wagon, as the cans of milk fell off the back, popped open, while rolling wildly down the hillside into other oncoming traffic. As Willy described it, "We proved that we were good shots with our slingshots, but we weren't quite the runners we thought we were……and got caught shortly after hitting the horses with the rocks. It was quite a mess on that hill. We regretted bringing those slingshots out of our back pockets, as we got into a lot of trouble that day…..and wasted a lot of milk at the same time." Well sir, the horses survived, the driver, while angry, dusted himself off and gathered up the empty milk cans that had rolled down as far as the federal building (where the clock tower is situated). "We didn't think the horse would rear up……just make them take off on a fast trot up the street," Willy admitted. "We were the talk of the town on that day," he said. "History makers," I quipped. "Yup, we made history that day," he concluded, pulling away from the table, to head back out into his beautiful gardens….that hospital patients and visitors found so cheerful and refreshing.

     Later that day, I saw old Willy, sneaking up on the nurses' residence, which was a large house directly to the side of the main hospital. I saw the scene from another angle, and couldn't help notice some of the nurses sunbathing with their tops undone at the back. I had this sense of obligation to warn them about Willy, the practical joker, but then, I really wanted to be able to re-tell this fabulous story in the future. He pulled up to the dividing privacy hedge, and unleashed a merciless assault with cold water from the garden hose……and the screaming said it all…..if the running half naked didn't cover the rest. When another girl from the x-ray department played a practical joke on him, and forgetting the right of retaliation, asked Willy if he would help her load up some firewood from a newly cut tree……the revenge was pretty sweet. When she came outside after work, to move her car to where she could load the firewood pieces, she found that Willy had already loaded it into the open vehicle…..in the front seats as well as the back. Once again, the hollering and laughter, that I witnessed from the painter's perch, from high on my scaffolding, watching Willy make the whole hospital experience, a little less stressful. He was the most memorable gardener-greeter-story spinner I ever knew. He made new friends every day at that hospital, and he was the kind of hometown character, who by innocent interaction, bestowed the warm kinship of a small town……on those visitors most in need of random kindness. He generously and without reservation, offered a few moments of quiet, compassionate conversation, to those facing the results of tragic circumstances. He was a listener as well. A good one.

     Thanks for joining me for this little remembrance of Billy "Willy" Andison, one of my history instructors…..and practical joke mentors.

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